Searching for the Instrument of the Gods
by M306117
Summary: The crew of the UNSC Butterfly have one task: find the Prophets and make them pay. But nobody knows where they went and, with a trail already months old, its likely nobody ever will until a bizarre clue hints that the Prophets have left more than just the galaxy behind.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: ****I don't own Halo. It belongs to Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries.**

Chapter One

**1147 HOURS, DECEMBER 22, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ 23 LIBRAE SYSTEM, PLANET MADRIGAL \ CITY OF NUEVA LIMA, CITY OUTSKIRTS**

Andrew Edwards, formerly of the 14th Shock Trooper Battalion, meander slowly through the wrecks of many a once proud car, or truck, now little more than rusted hulks after nearly twenty-five years of being exposed to the elements.

It was all he could see in whatever direction he looked.

Abandoned cars, all heading in the same direction, away from the city, a lasting reminder that this city, this planet, was dead.

Behind him in the haze was Nueva Lima, a once thriving if somewhat anti-UNSC city that had been attacked and glassed by the Covenant back in 2528. Millions had died, but millions had survived thanks in part to the local Insurrection forces who used their own ships to ferry trapped colonists to safety.

Now the city was empty, filled with carbonised skeletons, rusted fighting machines from both sides of the conflict, and a mournful presence in the air.

Andrew gave it little thought, focusing less on what had once been and focusing more on why he was on this planet.

Information.

The Covenant had splintered not too long ago, an event caused by the Elites being replaced by the Brutes or something. He'd glossed over that part of the briefing, finding it tedious, boring, and not exactly mission critical, but mainly because it was tedious and boring.

ONI had been aware of the situation, somehow, and was determined to make all members of the Covenant pay for their past transgressions, even the Elites despite their last minute defection, so Andrew and his twin brother, Benny, had been deployed with a crew and a ship to get whatever information they could on where one of the client races, the Prophets, had gone.

They had fled as soon as a civil war broke out, taking with them a huge number of Engineers, disappearing from everyone's radar, but ONI wasn't about to let the ruling caste of the Covenant go that easily.

People talked, that was a universal truth, and within the Covenant this was just as true if not more so, and that meant someone somewhere had to know where and when the Prophets fled.

The best way to get this information, ONI reasoned, was to barter with a member of the Jackal race. They weren't believers in the Great Journey, usually, and were actually mercenaries that exchanged their service within the Covenant Army for the freedom to continue their plundering life as pirates, and so low down on the food chain within the Covenant that they would readily sell things anyone just to make money.

ONI hoped to exploit this, and this was how Andrew found himself standing on a glassed planet, waiting to meet an alien that may well have helped out in the initial attack.

'Bunge, you got anything?' Andrew asked as he checked the time.

Their contact, a Jackal named Bol, was almost fifteen minutes late. Usually, when money was concerned, Jackals were quick to arrive and slow to accept, trying their utmost to get more out of the deal.

But fifteen minutes without a word was a little worrying.

'_Nope,' _Benny said from his position a mile away, sniper rifle tucked against his shoulder as he provided some semblance of overwatch from a ruined apartment complex. '_Just a bunch of old wrecks. What's it like to be among kindred spirits like yourself?'_

'Fuck you,' Andrew said, sticking his finger up in his brother's general direction. 'I'm only four minutes older.'

'_Still older,' _Benny replied. _'I'm in the prime of my life.'_

'Not if I get my hands on you, you won't,' Andrew muttered as he kept walking.

'_That'd be murder.'_

'Suicide. Technically, you're a clone of me so I'd be killing myself. Ergo, suicide, not murder.'

'_How do you figure?'_

'Who was born first?' Andrew said.

'_Touché,' _Benny said. He fell silent for a moment then said, '_Hold up, got eyes on a Spirit heading your way from the north. Guess Bol decided to show, after all.'_

Andrew orientated himself north and squinted, seeing a plume of dust on the far horizon that was gradually getting closer with each passing minute.

He knew that a typical Spirit dropship could hold around thirty passengers with a full combat load, and that they packed one of two turret designs, either a heavy plasma auto-cannon or a light plasma mortar, but he had no idea how many troops would actually be onboard the ship.

This was his first instance of meeting Jackals and _not _shooting at them, instead of meeting the bird-like aliens and killing them until they were dead, but felt confident for a number of reasons.

First off was that Benn was covering him with a sniper rifle, and knew that a mile for him was almost the same as point blank range. Benn was a master with a sniper rifle.

Secondly, Andrew knew that there was another team watching this meeting as well, his backup should things go south, ready to swoop in with a Falcon and perform a daring gunship rescue.

Thirdly, he was a Spartan.

_Well, that'd be stretching it a bit, _he thought.

He wasn't a Spartan-II like the Master Chief, and he wasn't a Spartan-III, but both he and Benny were Spartan-IVs, the latest generation of supersoldiers the UNSC had produced.

They may not have had the same level of training or conditioning, but they had been selected to join the program because they were amongst the best of the best, supposedly.

Johnson, the man who had extended the Edwards brother's their invitation, had confessed ONI needed soldiers who could operate without much command presence far behind enemy lines just as much as it needed soldiers capable of accomplishing their objective, regardless of the situation.

He had then read them an extract from a report made by their previous CO who had said that yes, while they weren't the best Helljumpers out there, they could operate well even with limited contact from a superior, and worked well as a team to the point of near telepathy and precognition.

So they had said yes to the invitation, been sent straight to a medical centre for their augmentations, and spent the next few weeks recovering aboard a Paris-class frigate as it sped towards the 23 Librae System.

Andrew's bones still hurt, and his eyes throbbed, but he was combat capable, as was his brother, and both of them had spent a further week aboard the frigate learning how to use the MJOLNIR armour that was synonymous with Spartans.

Its recharging energy shield, strength and speed augmenting circuits, and near invulnerable outer plating made them close to unbeatable on the battlefield.

Andrew's armour was covered from view by a rough cloak that fell well past his knees and halfway down his ankles, a half-hearted effort to hide the fact from these Jackals he wasn't a deserter looking for a bargaining chip with the UNSC should they catch him, but an agent of both ONI and the UNSC.

The dropship came to a slow stop half a mile away, depositing six ragtag Jackals onto the ground, before taking off to provide some measure of air support with its little cannon.

'Tell me the _Butterfly _has a solid lock,' Andrew murmured.'

'_Solid lock, bro,' _Benny confirmed, no doubt moving his reticule to track the incoming Jackals as they approached. '_Just say the magic words and it'll be dust.'_

'Copy,' Andrew said as Bol and his compatriots came to a halt a dozen metres away, all of them armed in one way or another.

It was all Covenant issue and typical of Jackals. Two plasma rifles, a needler, a needle rifle, and two plasma pistols, but none of the ever so annoying shields that could deflect even the biggest of bullets the UNSC had, even the round fired by Benny's rifle.

The Jackal with the needle rifle stepped forward, Andrew noting the large plume of spiny quills atop its head. He guessed this was Bol.

'You, human,' he said, speaking through a translation device that was wholly unnecessary as Andrew's armour was translating for him. 'You wanted to trade, yes?'

'Yes,' Andrew said. 'Information for supplies.'

Bol cocked his head to one side for a moment, his translation device converting English to Kig-Yar, then said, 'What kind of supplies?'

'Guns and ammo, mostly,' Andrew said, keeping his voice level. 'Me and a few buddies, we, uh, we appropriated it from the UNSC when we took our leave. Figured a guy like you could use some of it.'

'But why do you want information?' Bol said, sceptical. 'And about the Prophets?'

'We figured that sooner or later, the UNSC will catch up to us,' the Spartan said. 'It might be an idea to have a fallback option, a get out of jail free card. I reckon that knowing information about the Prophets will work nicely.'

Bol regarded him, long and hard, his bird-like eyes watching Andrew very closely, and he wished he knew something about Jackal physiology and its culture.

All he'd been told before setting out was to offer a deal, don't give up anything until the information had been received, then either wipe out the Jackals or just walk away clean, whatever felt better at the time.

But the silence was more than a little worrying, and Bol's crew had fanned out, given themselves clear lines of sight, and there was the ever present dropship hovering in the air.

Was this part of the dealing process with Jackals? Did they always scrutinise their opposites, maybe as a tactic to get them to become uncomfortable and therefore easier to manipulate later on? Or was Bol just suspicious of Andrew's offer?

He eventually hissed something that didn't get translated, probably the Jackal equivalent of a shrug, and his team relaxed their stances.

'Guns first,' Bol said. 'Then information.'

'Not gonna happen,' Andrew said. 'Information first, then I tell you where the weapons are.'

'How do I know you aren't lying?' Bol said.

'How do I know you aren't?' Andrew shot back. 'Anyone can make a claim about the Prophets, I'm guessing. You could have made the story up just to get your... claws on some UNSC contraband. I'm not going to risk telling you where they're stashed first, only to get double crossed.

'So come on, you first. Otherwise I walk away and find someone else to buy all those guns.'

He waited a moment then made a show of turning away, towards Nueva Lima, when he heard Bol's raspy voice call out.

'Provided you can walk away, human,' Bol said. 'You're the only one here, and I've got five Kig-Yar with me and a Spirit. What have you got?'

'A brother,' Andrew said. 'And he's got his hands wrapped around one of the guns we stole, a sniper rifle. I'm guessing he'll have it aimed squarely at one of those lovely eyes you've got. Anything happens to me, you lose an eye and everything around it.'

'You lie,' Bol hissed.

'Am I?' Andrew said. 'Okay. Uh, Benny? Give our little... _friend _an incentive to go through with this deal. Nothing too showy. Maybe an inch or two?'

There was nothing for a long second, then a bullet travelling at nearly five times the speed of sound zoomed past Andrew's head with inches to spare, and then past Bol's head with just as big a gap.

It wasn't so much heard going past as felt.

Andrew remained motionless as Bol and his crew jumped in surprise, hissing and screeching.

'And that's not all,' Andrew said. 'I've got a ship in orbit, nothing too fancy, mind you, but we bought that off some Insurrectionists on Venezia. Not much in the way of weapons, just two Archer pods they ripped from a destroyer.

'It'd take, what, a single of those missiles to destroy that?' He gestured at the Spirit as it hovered, unsure of what to do. 'Everything else would get sent to blast that freighter of yours from the sky.'

Bol screeched at Andrew, needle rifle almost being brought into a firing position, but recalled that Benny was watching and lowered it again.

'Okay, human,' he muttered. 'Information first, then guns.'

'I'm all ears,' Andrew said.

'Not much is known,' Bol said. 'After the Brutes took control from the Elites, things weren't so sweet anymore. Riots broke out all over High Charity. Some fled the city in their ships, like we did. So did some of the Prophets and their loyal servants.'

Bol stopped talking and Andrew waited for him to continue.

It was only when a full minute passed did he realise Bol was finished talking.

'That's it?' Andrew said. 'That's all you know? That they jumped ship?'

'That's all I bothered to know,' Bol said. 'My main worry was getting my clan out of High Charity before things went from bad to worse. Why should I care where a bunch of long necked monks went?'

'That's all you know?' Andrew repeated. 'Just that they fled?'

Bol hissed with impatience and irritation.

'Are you thick in the head, human? I said that's all I cared to know. You want to know where the Prophet's went, you should go check out High Charity.' He brought his rifle up again. 'Now, tell me where the guns are.'

'No,' Andrew said with a shake of his head. 'You gave me fuck all and that's what you're getting in return. Fuck all. I wanted hard evidence about where the Prophets had gone and you didn't deliver. That means no guns.'

Bol screeched again, his crew drawing their guns too, and said, 'We made a deal. I'd tell you what I know, you'd give me the guns. You never said that the information had to be precise.'

'Then the deal's changed,' Andrew said. 'I don't get my info, you don't get your guns. Now you need to think real hard about this. My brother has you in his scope, and he can drop you before you can pull that trigger.'

'But he can't drop everyone here,' Bol said. 'And he can't destroy my ship.'

'True, very true,' Andrew said, head nodding in agreement. 'Except for two minor flaws. The first being this.'

His hands were a blur of motion, augmented reaction times coupled with armour that increased his speed to beyond superhuman, moving so fast that it was as though they had simply appeared, each one holding an M7 submachine gun.

It also had the effect of revealing the armour he was wearing to Bol and his cronies, the dull matte grey plating easily visible, and letting them know it wasn't a deserter they were dealing with, or some run of the mill soldier.

'Demon,' Bol hissed.

'More or less,' Andrew said. 'Secondly, my ship isn't some wreck of a freighter converted to pose as a warship. It's an actual warship. Paris-class frigate, to be precise. It has a solid bead on both your dropship and your actual ship, ready to launch anything from a salvo of Archer missiles all the way up to a nuke, at either of them.

'So drop your weapons, back the fuck off, and nobody has to die here today.'

'You lied,' Bol said.

'So did you,' Andrew countered. 'You said you had good information on where the Prophets fled to, not a piece of crap. So, in a way, we're both even. I lied, you lied, we all drew guns on each other. Suck it up and move on.'

The Jackal screeched and hissed at him again, his quills turning all manner of colours, but the threat of facing a Spartan in combat, one who was supported by a ship in orbit, proved to be a greater deterrent than a slighted pride on a deal that had fallen through.

Bol lowered his rifle and hissed an order to his team for them to do the same.

Andrew did the same but kept his guns visible, just in case Bol decided to try his luck.

He didn't, and the six Jackals backed off and climbed aboard their dropship when it came to pick them up.

The Spartan tracked its progress until it was lost from sight before getting on the radio, requesting pickup, perching himself on a nearby wreck as he settled in to wait.

It creaked under his weight then settled, and Andrew cast a long hard look at Nueva Lima, a mile distant.

Nothing rose above four floors, and only then if it was lucky, and soon after he spotted his brother jogging towards him, the only thing moving amid the ruined cars.

'You came close,' Andrew said as Benny drew closer. 'Missed me by what, an inch?'

'Two,' Benny said as they bumped fists, their ritual for completing a mission. 'I would have done an inch but then I'd have hit your new mate Bol. That would have put a dampener on things, wouldn't it?'

'Eh, not really,' Andrew said as Benny sat down next to him, eliciting a fresh groan of protest from the car. 'Guy had jack shit to say, just some rubbish about the Prophets bugging out when the Covenant Civil War started. Nothing we didn't know already.'

'Ah,' Benny said.

They lapsed into silence until the sounds of a Falcon's rotors cut through the still arid air, their ride out of this dump approaching.

Wash, the pilot and a sergeant in the ODSTs, flared the nose as she came in for a landing, kicking up plumes of dust and loose bits of debris.

Andrew tore his cloak off and let it blow away, slipping past the starboard gunner, Fillion, another ODST, and dumped himself in one of the jump seats as Benny did the same with Baldwin, the port gunner, also an ODST.

'Alright, Wash. Get us out of here,' Andrew said before contacting the frigate. 'Butterfly Actual, this is Spartan Edwards. Mission was a bust. Bol knew nothing good we're back to square one. Heading to LZ.'

'_Acknowledge, Spartan,' _Actual replied. _'We'll be onsite inside of thirty. Less if those Jackals take off sooner.'_

'Any idea where we'll be going next?'

'_Earth,' _Actual said. _'ONI contacted us while you were bartering, giving us new orders to return home for resupply ahead of a new deployment. After that, god knows.'_

'Copy, Actual,' Andrew said. 'Edwards, out.'

He leaned back as the Falcon sped over the desert, watching the featureless landscape pass him by, wondering if this whole mission was nothing more than a wild goose chase.

They were searching for one ship, just one, that had slipped away from High Charity months ago during a period on immense turmoil and confusion, and with no records or adequate eye witness accounts to give them any indication as to where it may have gone.

And given that Covenant slipspace drives were far superior to UNSC drives, a single day netted the ship an extra nine-hundred or so light years of distance covered, provided they were still in slipspace. That meant the places they could possibly be was increasing exponentially quickly and would likely mean they'd never be seen again.

Which, in Andrew's opinion, wasn't so bad, but if ONI desperately wanted the long necked bastards, and were willing to keep him and his brother off the frontlines as part of that effort, he was happy to chase those wild geese.

'_Butterfly_'s coming in,' Wash called out. 'Guess those Jackals fucked off pretty quickly.'

'Just one of them against a frigate they didn't know the location of,' Baldwin said as the ship descended from above. 'Probably guessed they'd get humped before they could warm up their plasma torpedoes.'

'Provided they had any,' Fillion said. 'Not may Jackals had access to a warship. Theirs was probably a freighter.'

'Whatever it was, it's gone now,' Benny said as Wash flew the Falcon into a waiting hangar bay, setting it down gently on the deck with practised ease.

Technicians and mechanics swarmed over the vehicle as the Spartans and Helljumpers disembarked, attaching fuel hoses to fill the tanks up and checking for even the slightest bit of damage it might have incurred.

'See you in the mess?' Wash said to the twins as they went a different way to the ODSTs.

'Yeah,' Andrew said, waving her off. 'Get us the usual.'

'Got it,' the sergeant said as they disappeared from view, Andrew and Benny heading for the armour bay nestled aboard the _Butterfly._

It moved off while they did, pushing its engines hard to break free of Madrigal's gravity and enter space, ready to slip back to Earth for their next mission.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: ****I don't own Halo. It belongs to Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries.**

Chapter Two

**1500 HOURS, JANUARY 19, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ SOL SYSTEM, PLANET EARTH \ MEDIUM ORBIT, ABOARD UNSC **_**BUTTERFLY**_

The planet below the frigate was nothing like what the propaganda posters dotted all across the colonies had made it out to be.

In the photos, Earth had been a lush, green and blue coloured ball of civilisation, the centre of humanity's empire. But looking down at it now from the observation deck on the _Butterfly, _neither the twins nor Wash and her team could see anything that hinted as this place being a beacon of civilisation.

The atmosphere was hazy with smoke, from combat and a partial glassing, and they could see the areas that had actually been glassed in Africa, supposedly to combat some kind of parasitic infestation. Nobody had elaborated and nobody present had bothered to follow up.

'Damn,' Andrew said. 'She ain't pretty, is she?'

'Could have been worse,' Benny said. 'You saw Madrigal up close. That could have happened here just as easily.'

'Still, though,' Fillion said as he looked, one hand on the window. 'Damn.'

They mulled over the view a minute longer then moved, heading for the nearest airlock, feeling the deck move beneath them as the _Butterfly _manoeuvred itself to link up with an orbiting repair station, the _Duct Tape, _for resupply and refit.

'Any ideas what's next for us?' Wash said aloud as they formed up near one such door, joining half a dozen or so naval personnel as they waited near the airlock as well. 'More chasing down of fantasy leads?'

'Maybe,' Baldwin said. 'It'll be a tossup between another glassed colony in the ass end of nowhere, or a tropical paradise where the ship magically suffers drive trouble and has to set down for repairs.'

'I'd lean more towards the ass end of nowhere,' Benny said as the ship made contact with the _Duct Tape, _powerful magnets clamping the frigate into place as resupply hoses found their appropriate plug-ins and began the process of transferring fuel and water onboard, while walkways slotted themselves over the airlocks and formed a seal, allowing food and weapons to be transferred by hand.

The airlock door opened with a muted beep and allowed those onboard the ship a chance to leave, though their choices of where to go were very limited as the _Duct Tape _was an orbiting station, not a space elevator, and a UNSC vessel so the interior architecture would be very much the same as the _Butterfly, _just a little bigger and filled with food and supplies rather than guns and supplies.

But it was the thought that counted and the navy crew streamed off as their opposites aboard the repair station streamed on, pushing dollies loaded with food towards the mess hall.

The two Spartans and three Helljumpers disembarked as well, angling towards the PX section of the titanic ship where packages from home would be waiting.

All of them with the exception of Fillion, who was a Luna native, were Earth born and had families on the planet below, well away from the fighting, so mail for the five of them would be quick in arriving.

That being said, there wasn't much mail to receive, just a few packages each, including a box addressed to the twins together from their mother, and a package addressed to the ODSTs from her as well, which was puzzling.

'To my darling boys,' Andrew said, reading from a note tucked into the box. 'I hope you are keeping well and not getting into too much trouble now you are Spartans. These cookies are a belated Christmas gift, and a reminder of home. Hope to see you soon. Love, mum.'

'Aw, she does love us,' Benny said before turning to Wash as she held her package from the twin's mother. 'What does yours say?'

'To the Helljumpers serving with my sons,' Wash began, plucking a card from the box much like Andrew had done. 'Thank you for keeping a watchful eye over them both, even if it can be a pain to put up with them for a long time, and know that if I could trade places with you, I would. Lord knows I've always wanted to be in control of a machine gun when I've had to deal with them no end of times.'

Wash stopped and smirked as Fillion and Baldwin laughed.

'Unfortunately, I was unable to join your ship as I don't have enough combat experience despite raising two little monsters from birth. Instead, I hope you enjoy the enclosed hats, cookies, and Scotch will make up for my absence.'

'Booyah,' Fillion said as Wash opened the box and produced a large bottle of, albeit cheap, Scotch.

'Aw,' Andrew said. 'How come you guys get booze and we don't? We're her family.'

'Keep up the good work, Troopers,' Wash said, continuing. 'And don't stop jumping feet first into hell. Charlotte.'

Wash pocketed the Scotch as she rummaged around in the box again, pulling out three knitted hats with earflaps, all of them olive drab in colour and with a rough copy of the Marine rank slide for sergeant and corporal stitched onto the front, one for Wash and one each for Fillion and Baldwin respectively.

They quickly jammed the hats onto their heads.

'I love your mom,' Baldwin said as he played with one of the ear flaps.

'Yeah, and she must think highly of you guys,' Andrew said as he took in the sight of the three ODSTs and their newly acquired hats. 'She only makes knitwear for people she likes.'

'So you guys never got one?' Fillion joked, getting a sarcastic smile from Benny in return as the five of them headed away from the PX and to one of the observation areas dotted around the _Duct Tape, _perching themselves on a bench situated before a window that offered a panoramic view of Earth and the space above it.

Wash debated on opening the bottle of Scotch, not really wanting to as they were still technically on duty and, more importantly, lacking glasses to pour the alcohol into, meaning they'd have to take it in turns drinking straight from the bottle.

They settled the idea by getting Baldwin to sneak into the nearest mess hall and retrieve five plastic cups, pouring everyone an equal measure once he returned.

'To Mrs Edwards,' Wash said, holding her cup up in a toast. 'And her impeccable choice in headwear and cheap booze.'

'Mrs Edwards,' the others said, clinking their cups together before knocking the drinks back.

The cookies were opened soon after, freshly baked and shaped like the ODST's logo of a skull superimposed on a drop pod's outline with little chocolate chips baked into each one.

'I really love your mom,' Baldwin said with a mouthful of food. 'Booze, a hat, and cookies? She's awesome.'

'Yeah,' Benny said with a slight smile.

'We'll have to have you all over for a meal or something,' Andrew said. 'Mum likes meeting our teammates. Always puts a mini-party on, pulls out all the stops.'

'Nice,' Fillion said as he reached for another cookie. 'Hey, you know, I've been thinking.'

'Not very hard, mind you,' Wash said.

'Ha, ha,' Fillion said, sticking his finger up at the sergeant. 'But, anyway, if we're going to be working together on this Prophet thing for a while, do you think we should have a team name or something? You know, for a laugh?'

'Like what?' Baldwin said, taking a bite of his cookie and washing it down with the last of his Scotch.

Fillion shrugged. 'I don't know. Something funny, maybe, or something that refers to all of us.'

'We're all Helljumpers,' Andrew said. 'Or used to be.'

'Eh,' Wash said. 'Team Helljumper doesn't strike me as a good name. What else?'

'We're all non-coms,' Baldwin pointed out. 'Me and Fillion are corporals, you're a sergeant, Wash, and these two-' He gestured at the twins. '-were both lance corporals. So, Team Enlisted?'

The other four vetoed the idea, as did Baldwin after a moment, who went back to fiddling with his ear flaps.

After a moment, he said, 'Knitwear.'

'Knitwear?' Wash said.

'Yeah,' the corporal said. 'We've all got a knitted hat now, haven't we? It's a little funny and it refers to us all.'

The twins looked at each other and shrugged.

'Hard to argue with that kind of logic,' Andrew said.

'Harder still to come up with a better name,' Benny said.

'Team Knitwear it is,' Wash said, pouring another measure of Scotch for everyone.

They made another toast, as close to a naming ceremony as they'd get, and downed their drinks.

Soon after, Fillion snorted in laughter.

'What?' Wash said.

'I only just realised,' Fillion said, smiling. 'We're Team Knitwear and we're stationed on a ship called _Butterfly. _That has got to be the least dangerous sounding combination I can think of.'

The others thought about it then smiled and laughed, agreeing.

'Ooh, idea!' Benny said. 'We should come up with a team logo, too. I was thinking of a kitten playing with a ball of yarn while wearing a hat like that.' He pointed at Wash's hat. 'And then either paint it on the Falcon somewhere or slap it onto our armour.'

'That'd fuck with a lot of people,' Wash said. 'Three ODSTs and two Spartans with a cuddly kitten painted on. They'd be torn between laughing and fighting.'

'Works for me,' a voice behind them all said, making everyone jump in surprise and scramble to their feet, seeing Johnson stood behind them.

How long he'd been standing there was a mystery, and Wash began hiding the Scotch from him but thought better of it, knowing the man was a spook and saw everything, handing it over to Johnson wordlessly.

He accepted it, looked down at the half empty bottle, then produced a cup of his own from nowhere and poured himself some, handing the bottle back to the sergeant.

'To Team Knitwear,' Johnson said. 'May their missions be cute, fluffy, and full of dead enemies with smiles on their faces.'

The Spartans and Helljumpers took a minute to react before joining Johnson in his toast, their third such instance in the space of five minutes.

Wash quickly stowed the bottle away as Baldwin offered the ONI agent a cookie.

'So,' Andrew said as Johnson munched on the baked treat. 'I'm guessing you're here with new orders?'

'Correct,' Johnson said. 'Wow, real good cookies. Your mum made these?'

'Yes, sir,' Benny said with a nod. 'Freshly baked for whenever we return from a deployment. Speaking of, how did she know when we'd be back? These things can't be more than a day or two old. I thought our mission was super top secret?'

'People talk,' Johnson said as he had another cookie. 'And I like your mother. She promised to knit me a hat or something if I told her roughly when you'd be home. Anyway, your new mission.'

He burped and wiped his mouth clean of some crumbs.

'Evidently, your meeting with Bol told us nothing new. We were already aware of the Prophets fleeing but, the Jackal did give us an interesting bit of advice: search High Charity.'

'Which is what? And where?' Baldwin said as Knitwear slowly resumed sitting on the bench they had claimed, Johnson moving to lean against the window opposite.

'High Charity is, or was I should say, a Covenant space station that served as their capital,' Johnson began. 'Shaped like a mushroom, provided the mushroom was 350 kilometres across and purple, it was the home of the Prophets since the formation of the Covenant. That is, it was the capital until an alien parasite took over and mutated the crap out of the mushroom.

'It was then used to transport literally millions of these alien parasites to Earth but went through a massive slipspace portal instead and crashed landed on an ancient alien machine way beyond the edge of the Milky Way.' Johnson pointed at all of Knitwear. 'And you guys are going to go search the wreckage for a working computer. Kind of a long shot, but we're going to try anyway. No idea if you'll succeed.'

'Or survive,' Wash said. 'We're going to go investigate an alien city turned alien parasite vessel for a computer that may or may not exist. On the edge of the fucking galaxy.'

'Beyond,' Johnson corrected. 'But more or less.'

'Okay,' Andrew said holding a hand up. 'I can get that you want to get the Prophets for ordering the destruction of humanity, but isn't this going a little far?'

'Like, beyond the rim kind of far?' Benny added.

'Yes,' Johnson said with a nod. 'You'll be sent to what we call the Ark, or what's left of it, to comb through High Charity's wreckage to find whatever information you can about where the Prophets went.'

'On the edge of the fucking galaxy,' Fillion said.

'Yes,' Johnson said.

'On a crashed alien ship that was overrun by an alien parasite,' Baldwin said.

'Yes,' Johnson said.

'On the edge of the fucking galaxy,' Wash said for the third time.

'Yes,' Johnson said for the third time.

Knitwear didn't look convinced.

'You'll get four times the hazard pay,' Johnson said.

'I'm in,' Baldwin said.

'You would be for that much money,' Fillion said.

Johnson smiled and said, 'What about the rest of you? Are you in or out?'

Wash looked at Fillion and the twins, shrugged, and nodded.

'Ah, hell. Why not?' Fillion said. 'It's not like everyone gets to see the galaxy from the outside. Be something to tell my grandkids, provided it's not classified and I don't die during it.'

Everyone looked to the twins, the only ones yet to speak.

They shrugged and nodded.

'Very well then,' Johnson said. 'You'll leave once the modifications to the _Butterfly _are complete.'

'Modifications?' Andrew said. 'The hell are you doing to the ship?

'Oh, nothing much,' Johnson said. 'Just changing the slipspace drive to a modified and upgraded one we yanked from a Covenant assault carrier and installing some of its shield generators. You guys have a long way to go, and are gonna wind up in a place we know nothing about.'

He turned to leave and began walking away, adding, 'Oh, and it'll be a week before the ship's ready. So you've got shore leave until then. Just remember, no talking to anyone about what you're doing. Otherwise ONI will have to kill you, your family, your father's brother's nephew's cousin's former roommate. You know, the usual.'

'We'll keep quiet, sir,' Wash said slowly, not sure if the spook was joking or not. His expression was almost always on the verge of a smile, his tone light and cheery, even when talking about causing the deaths of an entire race of aliens.

He nodded at the team then departed, walking away without making a single noise, disappearing from view soon after.

'Huh,' Andrew said.

'Yeah,' Benny said. 'Edge of the galaxy. That's a first.'

'Same for a ship of ours to have shields,' Wash said. 'And a Covie slipspace drive.'

Andrew nodded.

'And a week of shore leave,' Baldwin said.

'That's good,' Fillion said.

'Any idea how to spend it?'

Benny thought for a moment.

'Stop over at ours?' he said. 'Mum wouldn't mind and we'd get more cookies every few days, plus a load more to take with us when the _Butterfly_'s finished.'

'Yeah, that sounds good,' Fillion said, nodding his head in agreement.

Baldwin and Wash quickly agreed and together, the five of them headed to the nearest hangar to hitch a ride on the next shuttle heading planetside.

Surprisingly, although they should have come to expect it, Johnson had already reserved them seats on the next outbound Pelican.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: ****I don't own Halo. It belongs to Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries.**

Chapter Three

**1500 HOURS, FEBRUARY 19, 2553 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ OUTSIDE MILKY WAY GALAXY, NEAR THE ARK \ ABOARD UNSC **_**BUTTERFLY**_

The frigate completed its refit within the given week and was speeding towards its far flung destination soon after, with many onboard the ship staying out of cryo to keep an eye on the _Butterfly_'s systems as the modified slipspace drive pushed the ship to speeds never before seen from any human vessel.

But even with a more powerful drive the journey took well over a month to complete, giving the two Spartans plenty of time to continue mastering the MJOLNIR armour and Wash plenty of time to modify and upgrade her Falcon, appropriating two of the four Engineers to do so.

At the end of the jump, the Falcon boasted more powerful, more efficient engines, a strengthened airframe and stronger hull, and vastly improved sensors that had almost double the range and three times the sensitivity.

Wash even began to turn her attention to one of the Pelicans stored aboard the _Butterfly, _similar improvements in mind, but the slipspace jump came to a close before she could get any further than making a list of things she wanted.

She had initially began to grumble about it, but soon stopped after joining the Spartans and her fellow Helljumpers on the bridge.

Everyone onboard had already been briefed about what they would encounter after travelling to beyond the rim of the Milky Way, including a few pictures of where they were going, but actually seeing the Ark hanging in space before them was overwhelming.

It was larger than Earth by a huge margin, spanning almost one-hundred-thousand kilometres easily, which made their five-hundred metre frigate feel wholly insurmountable by comparison, a little speck of dust next to a mountain.

The whole thing was shaped like a flower with its petals spread, four larger than the others, with some kind of planetoid sat right in the centre, dense clouds covering its surface, but what drew everyone's attention after getting over the sheet size of the construct was the state it was in.

Great storm swept across each arm, the wind speeds of which peaked at hurricane levels and beyond, and where there weren't storms were gaping wounds gouged into the titanic construction, spewing molten hot metal into the air and into space.

'You want us to go into that?' Benny said, jerking his thumb at the Ark. 'And look for a single working computer?'

'ONI does,' Hammond, the ship's captain, said. 'Me, I'd be happy to call it a wild goose chase if I ever saw one.'

'No shit,' Andrew said.

'Could we fly through that?' Fillion asked.

'Hell, no,' Wash said as she eyed a readout on one of the lesser storms. 'Winds speeds are in the low two-hundreds, and that's in a tame storm. Where we wanna go, they're way worse. I'm good, boys, but, I'm not that good.'

'By foot?' Baldwin said.

'You want to walk through that, be my guest,' Andrew said, gesturing at the stormy surface. 'Just remember to keep an eye out for a terminal that works while battling gale force winds and blinding rain.'

The Helljumper held his hands up in surrender then folded his arms, leaning against a bulkhead as the frigate continued to hang before the Ark.

'What's it gonna be, sir?' Andrew said. 'You going to send us in to that?'

He gestured at the storms raging across the ancient alien machine, and in particular the spot where High Charity had crash landed and then exploded.

'No,' Hammond said. 'I wouldn't want to send anyone into that, even Spartans.' He shakes his head. 'No. We'll call it quits. The chances of finding anything useful are beyond slim, and I'm not going to risk five of my people's lives for so small a chance.'

He nods to the navigation station who begins tapping at her controls, plotting a course back to Earth.

'Think Johnson will be pissed?' Benny asks as the _Butterfly _swings around and begins accelerating. 'We didn't even try to get the data.'

'I think he'll understand,' Andrew said. 'Especially when he sees the stills of the Ark as it is.'

The younger of the twins nodded, following his brother off the bridge as the frigate jumped to slipspace, retracing its steps on a two-hundred-and-fifty thousand light year trip.

**1159 HOURS, MARCH 21, 2553 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ COELEST SYSTEM, NEAR INSTALLION ZERO-FIVE \ ABOARD PELICAN HOTEL 124**

Johnson had been understandable about Hammond's decision to stay away from High Charity's crash site and the storms that plagued it, especially after seeing the images and videos for himself, and he came up with an alternate solution on getting the data.

Admittedly it carried with it the same low chance of finding the data as the mission to comb High Charity's wreckage, but Johnson still wanted the data to appease his superiors, so he sent the _Butterfly_ on its way to another ancient alien construction, this one dubbed Halo, where the Great Schism had started.

Hundreds, if not thousands, of Covenant ships had fired upon one another during the alien civil war, and it was likely at least some of the destroyed vessels still carried enough power to keep their internal logs intact, and that some of those few ships held data on the Prophet ship.

A slim chance, but it was safer than trawling through the ruins of an alien parasite hive in hurricane winds, so the ship and its crew were redeployed to search through everything, and as the mission would require boarding derelict vessels that had little to no atmosphere, Andrew and Benny had been given the EVA variant of the MJOLNIR armour to increase their survivability and mobility while operating in vacuum.

Both were fully suited up and sat in the back of Wash's Pelican, waiting for the green light to proceed as she and the _Butterfly _scanned the drifting ships for those with power and stable orbits.

Around them were the wrecks of many once proud Covenant ships, ranging from lowly corvettes all the way to CCS-class battlecruisers, superstructures melted from plasma torpedoes or holed by energy projectors.

'Nice to see them know what it's like to get hit by plasma,' Benny said as he watched a destroyer glide past, dead.

'Yeah,' Wash said.

She pulsed the engines and altered their course away from the titanic ship, letting momentum do most of the work, angling towards a distant assault carrier.

Far away in the background was a ring sized construct bigger than a moon, Halo.

Parts of its surface glowed red hot, the tail end of a recent glassing, and a few ships hovered near it, human and Elite.

Hammond had sent them a brief communication, explaining their presence, but that was it. Both parties were more or less ignoring each other, leaving the Spartans free to search to their heart's content.

Wash diverted more power to the engines, increasing their speed, then dialled it back, letting the Pelican glide through the vacuum of space.

Parts of armour that had been blown off the ships around them clanged off the dropship's hull at irregular intervals, as did the bodies of their unfortunate crew who had been sucked out into space.

Once, a Brute had slammed into the windscreen and gotten lodged there, requiring Andrew to go out and dislodge it himself.

A Grunt bounced off the toughened glass, followed soon after by another and a Jackal, bodies spinning awkwardly, their limbs and joints frozen.

'Another one bites the dust,' Benny sang softly under his breath. 'And another one gone, and another one gone. Another one bites the dust.'

'What?' Wash said, craning her neck around to the look at the Spartan.

'Song from way back when,' Andrew said, waving his hand dismissively. 'Benny has a weird music collection. Don't worry about it.'

'I wasn't,' Wash said, firing a brief burst from her underside jets to avoid colliding with a Seraph fighter that had been blasted by pulse lasers, its armour slagged.

The rest of the journey to the assault carrier passed by in much the same manner, Wash avoiding the larger pieces of debris while smaller pieces, and bodies, were left to bounce off the hull, newly improved by the Engineers aboard the _Butterfly _during its return trip.

'Butterfly Actual, this is Hotel One-Two-Four,' Wash radioed as they came within spitting distance of the assault carrier. 'We are on station, ready to deploy.'

'_Acknowledged,' _Actual said back. '_Proceed at your own discretion.'_

'Understood.' Wash killed the link and began manipulating her controls. 'All right, boys. Get aft and get ready. I'll take us into the main hangar and pop the hatch.'

'Got it,' Andrew said.

He and Benny ducked into the troop bay, sealing the door into the cockpit behind them and donned their thruster packs before grabbing an SMG each.

Even though the ship had been drifting along without much power for nearly five months, it never hurt to be careful.

Andrew checked his brother's pack was correctly fitted then let Benny do the same, the two of them forming up in front of the rear hatch as Wash manoeuvred the Pelican into the assault carrier's mammoth fore hangar bay.

There was a brief moment of rotation, and then the dropship settled onto the alien deck, its landing struts deploying and the magnets contained within the feet activating.

With no power, the artificial gravity had failed, and with no gravity, the Pelican would have just floated away within moments. Everything in space was always in motion, even if it looked to be immobile, so given enough time the dropship may have bumped into something, and to avoid this would require Wash to constantly adjust her position.

Clamping down onto the deck was just easier.

'_Venting atmo,' _Wash said over the COM.

A hiss filled the air as the oxygen filling the troop bay was diverted back into the tanks that were dotted around the dropship until silence fell over everything.

'_Popping the hatch.'_

The rear hatch lowered in silence, revealing the cavernous hangar to the twin Spartans and everything that littered it.

Crates of supplies and weapons floated in the zero gravity environment while Spirits and Phantoms remained docked dutifully in their cradles, waiting for a crew that had breathed its last months ago, and was now drifting from one end of the ship to another.

'Creepy,' Andrew said as he disembarked from the Pelican and set foot proper in the alien ship, the magnets in his boots making contact with the deck. 'It's like a silent tomb.'

'It _is_ a silent tomb,' Benny said. 'No sound, no living crew, lots of dead people. Those are the requirements.'

'Uh huh,' Andrew said as he drew his SMG. 'Come on, we need to find a terminal.'

'Any in particular?'

'Whatever works.' Andrew pulled out a small data pad given to him by Johnson. 'We just have to plug this in and let it work its magic.'

The pad had been programmed to copy everything it could and transmit it back to the _Butterfly _where analysts would comb through everything for the smallest of hints as to where their elusive prey had gone.

Benny nodded and drew his weapon too, the pair setting off in the silence to the nearest hatch, sensing rather than hearing the Pelican's hatch seal itself up again once they cleared it.

'_Radio if things become FUBAR,' _Wash said. '_I'll keep the engine running.'_

'Copy, Wash,' Andrew radioed back.

To Benny, he said, 'Let's go.'

He accessed a schematic for this class of ship, gotten based on the UNSC's explorations of the assault carrier that had kindly donated its shield generators and slipspace drive to the _Butterfly,_ looking for an appropriate terminal they could use to download the data they had come for.

'Okay,' he said, looking at the diagram flashing across his HUD. 'We need to go that way-' He pointed to starboard and towards a Phantom. '-and go through a hatch. There should be a terminal about fifty metres along the corridor.'

'You say so,' Benny said, falling in behind his brother.

'I do,' Andrew said. 'Well, the floor plan says so. If we get lost, blame it, not me.'

'Oh, I'm blaming you, regardless. You're the one with the map. I'm just following orders.'

'That's I'm just following orders, sir,' Andrew said.

'Bite me,' Benny said.

Andrew didn't, electing instead to slap his brother across the back of his head, and walked away before any kind of retaliation could occur.

'Ow,' Benny said as he jogged to catch up to his brother.

They passed by the crates and the bodies, occasionally pushing one out of the way if it got in their way and watching the object or corpse fly away on its new trajectory, Benny managing to fling a Brute all the way to the opposite end of the hangar while Andrew set a crate filled with plasma rifles on a collision course with Wash's Pelican.

She swore at them over the COM when it made contact and the Spartans doubled timed it to the door, the two halves sliding open as they approached.

More dead bodies greeted them in the corridor beyond, hanging serenely in the silence, and the twins pressed forwards, to the terminal Andrew had located.

Its screen was dark, and some of the casing surrounding it was dented, but it came to life, slowly, when Andrew tapped the screen.

'Okay,' he said, examining the casing. 'Now all we need is something to plug into and we'll be in business.'

Which was easier said than done.

Nothing even remotely resembling a slot for data line was visible on the external casing, and a mass of tangled alien circuitry met Andrew and Benny when they tore it off to get at the inner workings of the terminal.

'Well, shit,' Benny said upon seeing the wires and circuit boards.

'Yeah,' Andrew said in agreement. 'Shit.'

They both sighed.

Electronics was beyond them, and alien technology was even more so. Both knew how to fire a plasma rifle and pistol, and how to prime a plasma grenade, but that was far as it went.

Conscious of both their dwindling air supply and the need to get this data, Andrew radioed the _Butterfly _as it held position on the edges of the mass of derelict ships. It had a few technicians that were familiar with Covenant tech, and they would be able to guide the Spartans through the necessary steps to patch in their data pad.

**2112 HOURS, MARCH 23, 2553 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ COELEST SYSTEM, NEAR INSTALLION ZERO-FIVE \ ABOARD UNSC **_**BUTTERFLY**_

With the help of some technicians, the Spartans managed to connect their data pad with the Covenant systems and begin the download, only to later learn the information they needed was absent, meaning they had to repeat the whole process all over again on another ship, and again when that search turned up only garbled data, going from ship to ship until striking it lucky with a support ship that had more or less intact records of when the Prophets had bugged out, where they were going, and how many they numbered.

Hammond had gotten the logs translated into English and passed them out to Knitwear, seeing as how they were the ones doing most of the work in the search.

'Can anyone translate this into something more understandable?' Baldwin asked as he flicked through on excerpt. 'I hated reading poetry in school and this sounds just like it.'

'What you see is what you get,' Hammond said, flicking through his own extracts. 'This is more or less a literal translation, and we don't have an AI onboard to translate it into terms we can understand.'

The Helljumper grumbled under his breath, eyes darting across his data pad's screen.

From what could be gleaned from the records, the Prophets, upon realising the alien parasite attacking High Charity couldn't be stopped, loaded up as many members as possible onto what few ships remained docked on the station and crammed just as many holy relics and Engineers aboard too.

This amounted to around two ships, the support vessel the records had been taken from and an assault carriers, but only the dedicated warships made it through the space battle occurring outside High Charity with the support ship getting pelted with plasma torpedoes and struck by an energy projector.

Not staying behind to help, the Prophets had continued with their plan and fled.

'Whole bunch of weird stuff,' Andrew said.

He had been given a list containing still of most of the relics, all of them sharing the same angular design and burnished metal colour, but their functions and why they were considered holy enough to be rescued was a mystery.

There were plenty of the items, too, and he was barely a fifth of the way through everything when one of the relics caught his eye.

'Huh,' he said.

'What?' Benny said.

'Looking through the pictures,' Andrew said. 'Everything is pretty much the same in looks, so far, except for this.'

He tapped the pad and transferred the image to a nearby screen, giving everyone present a chance to look at the anomalous object.

It was a sphere made of either polished stone or burnished metals, strange symbols etched onto the surface, sticking out next to the more angular pieces that had been shipped with it.

'Which ship got that?' Wash asked.

'Uh, the assault carrier, I think,' Andrew said, checking the accompanying manifest. 'That got most of the toys because all the Prophets were on it. The support ship was carrying only livestock and a few Brutes that couldn't get space on the carrier.'

'I'm sure ONI will want whatever it is for their own nefarious purposes,' Hammond said. 'Now all we need to find out is where they were going in the first place.'

'I might have that,' Fillion said, raising his hand. 'I got a communiqué from the assault carrier to the support ship, telling them about their destination.

'Now, it's a literal translation so bear with me, but it says 'Now, my brothers, we shall join his Holiness, the High Prophet of Truth, as he attempts to open the way to the Ark! We shall join him at the Portal and assist him in clearing it. Rejoice, for the Great Journey is nigh!'

'So, they were going to the place we've already been,' Benny said. 'Great.'

'Unless they never made it there,' Fillion said. 'Their ship could have been shot down by one of ours and exploded, or it went through the Portal to the Ark and got their asses handed to them by the Elites.'

'Or they went some place completely different,' Baldwin said. 'Nobody says you can't change your mind about dropping out of slipspace to change your course.'

'Which means we're back to square one,' Hammond said. 'If they made it to Earth, they could have gone through that slipspace portal and headed to the Ark, where they could have been killed by the Elites, or they were destroyed upon reaching Earth. Or, they did as Baldwin said and altered course.'

Andrew powered down his data pad and dumped it on the desk before him, leaning back and rubbing his face.

'God, we're back on a wild goose chase.'

Hammond nodded vaguely in agreement, saying, 'But we got what Johnson wanted. That means we can go back to Earth, give him the records, and hopefully get pulled off this whole thing.'

'Amen,' Benny said.

The captain nodded again then contacted the bridge, giving them the order to plot a course for Earth and jump once the drive was powered up.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: ****I don't own Halo. It belongs to Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries.**

Chapter Four

**1200 HOURS, MARCH 25, 2553 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ SOL SYSTEM, PLANET EARTH \ MEDIUM ORBIT, ABOARD UNSC **_**BUTTERFLY**_

Far from convincing Johnson that this quest the _Butterfly _was on would come up empty, the data provided by the ship served only to intrigue and encourage him even more, to the point that he ordered the frigate to dock at another repair and refit station for some minor touch ups, meeting Knitwear and Hammond in one of the empty bunkrooms that lined the ship to brief them on the next segment of their mission.

'From what we could glean from the data you retrieved, it appears that the Prophets headed this way,' Johnson began once everyone was seated, another box of fresh cookies from the twins' mother being passed around. 'However, during clean up operations following the Battle of Earth, we never came across an assault carrier loaded down with Prophets or Forerunner artefacts, nor was one seen over the Ark.'

'So they dropped out of slipspace,' Baldwin said, leaning back in his chair with both feet propped up on a crate. 'Chose a new place to run to rather than face what was happening at Earth.'

'A possibility, yes,' Johnson said. 'And given the fact nobody has seen this ship they used, ONI would have quite happily gone with that and terminated the mission.'

'I'm sensing a 'but' here,' Andrew said.

Johnson smiled slightly, nodding his head.

'But,' he said. 'The manifests you acquired contained something that hints at a third possibility.'

Behind him, a screen lit up to show the exact same sphere Andrew had picked out during his trawl through the manifest Johnson was referring to.

'And that is...?' Hammond asked.

'A Forerunner artefact that allows a ship to travel between parallel worlds during slipspace jumps,' Johnson said, his voice level and without a hint of a joke. 'We believe that the Prophets inadvertently travelled to an alternate dimension.'

'Bullshit,' Benny said.

'Bulltrue,' Johnson said offhandedly as he leant against a nearby desk. 'See, we've already had two ships travel to a parallel world using a similar object. They each picked one of these objects up after retreating from the colony world of Leon, placing the sphere in their hold for transport. But, instead of bringing them to their respective intended destinations, it took them to an alternate Earth.'

He clicked his fingers and the screen shifted again, to show a planet covered in massive drab deserts with green tinged oceans, the atmosphere murky from heavy pollutants.

The continents were visible beneath a sparse cloud layer but they were undeniably the landmasses of Earth.

'This Earth,' Johnson continued. 'was subjected to a massive global nuclear war between multiple nations. Its surface was reduced to a radioactive wasteland where mutated insects and creatures roamed free, with marauding gangs of raiders doing whatever the hell they want, whenever the hell they want.'

'I'm still calling bullshit,' Benny said, and Johnson smiled again.

He clicked his fingers and a mass of screenshots taken from a helmet cam replaced the picture of Earth, each image showing desolated ruins and warped creatures, their bodies either too large or wholly unrecognisable.

'These were taken from the logs of a Spartan-III,' Johnson said. 'He can personally attest to their accuracy and the fact they're from a parallel Earth. Or, he could as we don't know exactly where he is. B124's dropped off the grid. Or is it Pierce?'

He shook his head clear of the distraction and carried on.

'Anyway. Between his logs, which show several historic monuments, and sensory data taken by the ship carrying him, ONI is one hundred percent certain that travel to a parallel world is possible.' He jerked his thumb at the screen, now showing the sphere once more. 'And this little thing is what makes it happen.'

'So, you think that the Prophet's travelled to a parallel world?' Andrew said. 'Completely, utterly, hundred percent sure?'

'Yes,' Johnson said. 'Two ships have already travelled to alternate worlds, leaving behind some undetectable trail of radiation which attracts the spheres, so chances are high that the Prophet's sphere homed in on them. They could be orbiting a radioactive wasteland as we speak.'

'Or a planet filled with talking horses,' Benny whispered to Fillion, making the Helljumper laugh.

'No, we found one of those already,' Johnson said. 'Sent a battlegroup there, too.'

The room went quiet following that comment before Johnson clapped his hands together, speaking once more.

'Right. So. Back to the Prophets,' he said. 'We know they have a parallel world travelling sphere, or PTWS for short, and we know that two ships have recently used one so slipspace is going to be brimming with the tracer radiation, so we can assume with a certain degree of accuracy that their PTWS picked up on that and zeroed in.'

He pointed at the people sat before him.

'Guess what you guys get to do?'

Wash said, 'Ah, crap.'

**1439 HOURS, MARCH 28, 2553 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ URS SYSTEM, PLANET SANGHELIOS \ MEDIUM ORBIT, ABOARD UNSC **_**BUTTERFLY**_

They wouldn't attempt to travel to the parallel Earth straight away, instead jumping to another location for some last minute modifications to the _Butterfly _and to take on a few more supplies, as well some more crew.

Knitwear had gathered on the bridge, watching as the frigate dropped out of slipspace into the star system that was home to the Elite race's homeworld of Sanghelios, each of them letting out similar gasps of shock and surprise upon seeing what lay before them.

'Holy shit,' Andrew murmured, gaze transfixed by a mammoth ship hanging in the skies above Sanghelios.

It was over five and a half kilometres end to end, longer than an assault carrier, and nearly a kilometre wide.

The crew would have almost classed it as a new Covenant vessel due to the sheer scale of it being far above anything humanity had ever produced, but the design was completely wrong if the ship did belong to the now split alien alliance, possessing hardly any flowing, organic lines or the characteristic slivery hull.

The design was wholly human, featuring the typical straight lines and angled armour with missile pods and point defence guns tucked away at regular intervals, and the ship's name was emblazoned on the forward hull, helpfully lit up, too.

'_Infinity, _huh?' Hammond said after he ordered the navigation station to plot a course to the titanic ship. 'Pretty damn big, you ask me.'

Andrew and Benny nodded in agreement as the already big ship appeared to grow even larger, the distance between _Infinity _and the _Butterfly _rapidly closing as the smaller ship sped towards the larger one as it hung above Sanghelios.

'Wonder what she's doing all the way out here?' Baldwin mused aloud.

There was a smattering of Covenant ships holding varying orbits of similar paths to _Infinity_, clustered above some murky region on the planet's surface that looked to have been the sight of intense bombardment.

'Zoom in,' Hammond said. 'The spot they're orbiting.'

The officer at navigation nodded and compiled, zooming and enhancing the area in question, producing an image containing many wrecked Covenant ground vehicles, a similar number of Spirits and Phantoms in similar conditions, a huge impact crater that could have only come from an orbital MAC strike, and the still smoking wreck of a destroyer lying in some woods.

Benny let out a low whistle at the devastation.

'Think _Infinity _did all that?' he said.

'If she did, why are those ships-' Hammond gestured to the remaining Covenant ships surrounding her. '-still flying?'

The Spartan shrugged and said, 'Spoils of war?'

'Maybe,' Hammond said as _Infinity_ grew closer. 'Unless things on Sanghelios aren't so good after the Prophets left, and we're offering a helping hand to our new buddies.'

The Spartan nodded and said little else as the _Butterfly _crept closer to _Infinity_, the communications officer sending off a pre-prepared message that Johnson had crafted. It would explain why they were here, and what the frigate needed upon docking, enabling a quick transfer of materials.

Up close, _Infinity _more closely resembled a massive wall, its hull stretching up from the frigate, and down, and the _Butterfly _felt like a mote of dust next to the ship, much like it had done at the Ark, only this time it was a human construction dwarfing them instead of a Forerunner relic.

Docking tubes emerged from the ship's side, reaching out for the frigate as it came in for its final approach, handing control over to the onboard AI on _Infinity _for the final few metres, a solid clang resonating throughout the hull as contact was made.

'Seal shows green,' the operations officer said, scanning her console. 'All connections stable and secure.'

Over at Hammond's chair, the small screen built into the arm flashed as new orders came in from the commanders of _Infinity._

He looked at them then said, 'Okay, Spartans. You're to report to the S-Deck to get outfitted with new armour for this mission while Wash, you take Fillion and Baldwin to pick up our new crew. It would seem _Infinity _has some new Engineers for us, better ones than those we presently have.'

Something else flashed across the screen.

'And then you're all supposed to help transport a high value prisoner onboard.'

The twins glanced at each other at this, both their brows furrowing into a frown.

'It say why we need a high value prisoner onboard?' Andrew asked.

'No,' Hammond said slowly. 'Just that you're to be fully armoured and armed when you pick her up. And no talking, either. This lady is dangerous with a capital danger, apparently.'

The Spartans' frowns deepened.

Why were they taking a dangerous prisoner on a classified ONI op that would see them, potentially, travelling to a parallel universe?

Hammond glanced up from his screen to see all of Knitwear still standing still on the bridge.

'Go on, get,' he said, gesturing for them to leave. 'I'd like to get this wild goose chase over and done with as soon as possible. Get armoured, get the prisoner, then get back. Understood?'

'Yes, sir,' the five soldiers said, one after the other with varying levels of enthusiasm.

The ODSTs went first, diverting to their quarters to armour up before setting foot on _Infinity, _while the two Spartans went directly for the ship.

**1448 HOURS, MARCH 28, 2553 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ URS SYSTEM, PLANET SANGHELIOS \ MEDIUM ORBIT, ABOARD UNSC **_**INFINITY**_

Everything aboard _Infinity _was shiny and new, and in many places still undergoing installation, and the twins' heads were on a constant swivel as they took in the sights on their way to S-Deck, where _Infinity_'s contingent of Spartans lived and trained.

There were a few of them already onboard, distinguishable from the regular crew by their tall and muscular stature, the result of the augmentation program, or by the fact they were wearing full armour, footsteps thudding on the steel deck as they walked past.

Andrew and Benny nodded in greeting to them as they passed, getting nods back from their fellow Spartans.

Eventually, the long walk terminated in a huge room that was crammed from top to bottom with armour bays, berths for the soldiers used this space on the upper floors.

'Nice,' Benny said as two teams of armour technicians waved the Spartans over, directing them to two adjacent bays. 'I could get used to this.'

'Me too,' Andrew said.

They approached the armour bays and split up, each twin going their own way, stepping onto the designated spots within the device.

'Okay, Spartans Edwards and Edwards,' one of the technicians said as he read from a data pad. 'You're going to be outfitted with the Warrior variant of the armour, as per the outlined mission parameters given to us. It has the usual shields and strength enhancers, but the design is intended to improve your agility in combat.'

'Don't suppose you have a set of armour that looks like the ODST BDUs, do you?' Andrew asked as the armour bay began attaching the various pieces of plating to his bodysuit with mechanical precision.

'It's currently being designed,' the technician said. 'Though distribution won't be for a month or two, yet. We can make a note in your files if you want, requesting the variant for your typical set.'

'Sure, do it,' Benny said as he was rotated and titled backwards, the chest piece rising from the ground to clamp into position as the front half descended from above. 'Be nice to have armour that reflects our roots.'

Both Spartans were returned to a vertical position, helmets coming down to slot neatly over their heads.

With the suit now in one piece, the HUD came to life, powering up the various little displays that told the user almost everything they might need to know or see.

The twins stepped off the armour bay, footsteps now making dull thuds, fists clenching and unclenching as they reacquainted themselves with the reactive and force multiplying circuits, grins on their faces.

Even though they had worn the standard ODST battle dress uniform for most of their military career, and grown fond of the distinct style, it couldn't hold a candle to the hardened plating that covered them now, or the energy shield.

Once the ODST armour was adapted for the MJOLNIR GEN2, it would feel even better to suit up.

A waypoint appeared on their HUDs as it finished booting up, directing them to a nearby armoury, along with orders to load up and then proceed to the brig located deep with _Infinity_, where their prisoner waited.

'Better get this over and done with,' Benny said as he started walking towards the door indicated by the waypoint. 'Can't wait to see who we get to escort, and find out why they're dangerous enough to need two Spartans and three Helljumpers.'

'Probably some psycho murderer that racked up a three figure body count,' Andrew said as he drew level with his brother. 'Bet you twenty they're six foot six and three hundred pounds.'

'You're on,' Benny said.

**1505 HOURS, MARCH 28, 2553 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ URS SYSTEM, PLANET SANGHELIOS \ MEDIUM ORBIT, ABOARD UNSC **_**INFINITY**_

Their prisoner wasn't six and a half feet tall, and nor was she three hundred pounds of muscle or fat.

She was a little under five foot seven, and a shade over 120 pounds, and around sixty years old.

Even with a helmet covering his face completely, Andrew knew his brother was grinning widely at winning the bet.

'Dammit,' Andrew muttered as the two Marines stood behind the woman nudged her forward.

She was wearing the usual prisoner garb provided by the UNSC of a dark blue tunic with a lab coat on top, hands cuffed together in front of her.

The name badge on the coat read Halsey, a name that sounded vaguely familiar to Andrew, but he couldn't quite place. Something to do with science, maybe.

He pushed the thought from his head as Halsey looked him and his brother up and down, as though appraising them for something.

Unlike most everyone else, who viewed the two in their armour with something akin to awe and admiration, Halsey appeared to be unimpressed with the sight before her, like Andrew and Benny failed to meet her expectations or some other high standard she had.

'So, you're my escort,' Halsey said in neutral tones.

Neither Spartan answered, remembering their orders to avoid engaging the prisoner in conversation.

Halsey made an unimpressed noise when they didn't speak, her expression remaining the same when Wash, Baldwin, and Fillion arrived on scene.

'We'll take her from here, corporal,' Wash said to the Marines positioned behind Halsey.

The senior of the two nodded and wordlessly pushed Halsey forward with one hand towards Knitwear.

Wash grasped her by the upper arm and started to lead her towards the _Butterfly_, Fillion and Baldwin in front, Andrew and Benny behind.

'I take it we're not going anywhere nice,' Halsey said as the six of them began the long journey back to the frigate as whatever supplies it needed were loaded on, not that the crew had used much.

With a supercharged slipspace drive, jumping anywhere was done in the blink of an eye, and the _Butterfly _had clocked well over thirty thousand light years over the past week alone, a distance that a normal Shaw-Fujikawa drive would take nearly thirty years to do.

'I've no idea,' Wash said. 'Orders say take you to the ship, I take you to the ship.'

'With two of the new model escorting me, as well,' Halsey said, turning her head to look at one of the Spartans out of the corner of her eye. 'Either ONI thinks I'm more dangerous than I previously believed them to, or they're simply showing me the next generation.'

She waited until Andrew and Benny gave each other a subtle glance, just a slight turn of their heads, before focusing on the hallway in front of her.

'Who is this lady?' Benny asked over a private COM channel.

'I've no idea,' Andrew said. 'Name's familiar, though. She a famous scientist or something?'

Benny shrugged and said, 'If she is, what did she do to get locked up? And why are armed five soldiers escorting her? You could get away with a private with a humbler.'

It was Andrew's turn to shrug.

Whoever Halsey was, and whatever she had done, was a mystery, as was her presence on this mission to hunt down the Prophets.

What could a criminal scientist possibly have to offer on an expedition to a parallel world?


End file.
